Saturday, 29 December 2012

The Christmas Question

It seems to
me there was a time when everyone I knew celebrated Christmas with eternally fixed
beliefs, customs and menus - but that was back in the days before cultural
diversity became the norm. The few non-Christians in my circle then generally
kept a low profile as the party rumbled on without them. Lately, however, their
number has grown, swollen by ranks of atheists, agnostics and vegetarians - all
bent on questioning the basis, abjuring the symbolism and rejecting the
customary festive fare - while still taking advantage of a few days of
sanctioned idleness and self-indulgence. In order to take a step back from this
cultural confusion I decided to spend this Christmas in Istanbul.

In a city so
used to visitors and with a population estimated at 15 million there was bound
to be some recognition of the great Western knees-up - decorated trees in hotel
lobbies and inflatable Santas in a few of the shops - but really it was
business as usual even though there appeared to be very few tourists rattling
around the extensive infrastructure dedicated to serving them. Streets full of
shops, cafes, restaurants and stalls were open but bereft of customers, their
owners prowling the pavements, relentlessly entreating us with their impressive
multi-lingual pitches. I had hoped to blend anonymously into the general
population so as to experience the subtle everyday pleasures of being in the
city but I underestimated the power of small differences to betray my identity
and, despite my attempt to avoid dressing as a tourist, the natives instantly
recognised me as a foreigner and homed in remorselessly. My polished leather
shoes, especially, were an obvious target for the hundreds of shoe-shine boys.
I soon learned to avoid eye-contact with them.

But the most
precious thing that Istanbul possesses, its history, needs no selling. It is a
product of its location and is everywhere evident in its buildings, its customs
and its activities - none of which can be fully appreciated without some rudimentary
knowledge of events from the time Constantinople was founded as a Christian
city-state in 330 AD,through the time it fell
to Islamic forces in 1453, subsequently becoming known as Istanbul, and to the
creation of the secular state of Turkey in 1928. All of this story is to be found within the
city and is there to inform our view of modern world events. And, while I may
have eschewed the outward appearance of a tourist, I did fully embrace the historical
sightseeing opportunities, picking off the monuments one by one.

But, while I
never became blasé about the quantity and quality of the sites, I did soon begin to suffer
a growing sense of outrage at their very existence. It started in the Harem of
the Topkapi Palace when my admiration for the architectural and decorative
skills of the builders gave way to consideration of the purpose for which the
place existed - a gilded prison where people were enslaved for the
personal pleasure of its creators, the Sultans. Even in the lavish sacred
buildings, the churches and mosques, I experienced a similar revulsion at the
way in which the established authorities used them to justify their position
and control their subjects with the collusion of organised religion and its ability
to subjugate the minds of men.

But my
spirits were lifted at the last stop, the Basilica Cistern, a great underground
reservoir built by the Emperor Justinian around 550 AD to supply fresh water to
the citizens. The astonishing magnificence of the work and its antiquity make
it a classic example of Roman engineering but what I most admired was that it
was a civil engineering project and,
as such, was of material benefit to the otherwise deprived population.

Suitably cheered
I emerged into the cold, sunlit square and made straight for the nearest
shoe-shine boy. I overpaid him with a generosity born of empathy for the
oppressed people of the last two millennia, then pointed my gleaming feet in
the direction of the airport and contemplated the fleeting time-span of the Christmas
pudding.